


anything you say

by onakissgodknows



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Colorado Rockies, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 16:32:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11924808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onakissgodknows/pseuds/onakissgodknows
Summary: “You’re making me blush, Cargo."“Oh, I’m sorry. Is that not why you called?”  He sounds smug."Called because I miss you."





	anything you say

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an excuse to write about phone sex and then....well it's still mostly phone sex, but we'll pretend it's a little deeper than that.
> 
> A note on Carlos Gonzalez's nickname, if anyone cares: in my last Nolan/Cargo fic I referred to him as Carlos in the narration because it was his POV and I'm sure he thinks of himself in his head as Carlos. This one is Nolan's POV, and I feel pretty confident Nolan thinks of him as Cargo...so that's why I refer to him as Cargo throughout this one. 
> 
> This is set in February 2017, so just before spring training started this year.

It’s early February, which means the offseason is winding down and Nolan is itching to get back on the field. He loves the offseason, loves being home and spending time with his family – he always goes back to his parents’ house, his brother has been home too, and it sometimes feels like he’s never left home – but a few months off is more than enough.

Two weeks until pitchers and catchers report, and then a couple days after for position players. Maybe Nolan will just go early. It isn’t that he’s completely abandoned baseball during the offseason – he and his brother always end up tossing a baseball around at least a few times a week – but there’s something different about being back at the training facility in Arizona, back to the everyday grind of the game, back to having a full season ahead of them, like a clean slate. None of last year’s mistakes or disappointments. Nothing but a blank canvas for them to paint their own future.

The one thing that niggles at him is that it will likely be Cargo’s last season as a Rockie. He’s known this for ages and keeps trying to tamp it down so he doesn’t have to remember that he might have to carry on with this team without the person who, like Charlie and DJ, like Chatwood and Ottavino, has been there since Nolan’s first day in the majors. The day he’d shown up in his Triple-A manager’s office fuming because he wasn’t in the lineup and he wanted to play, and his manager had let him fume until he finally told Nolan that he was being called up. Then the car breaking down on the way to Chase Field, and he’d barely made it in time for the game, but he was in the majors and he was there to stay, and Cargo was in the outfield and Nolan was at third and it stayed that way for years, and Nolan can’t imagine anything else.

If this is their last year on the same team, Nolan intends to make it a good one. Cargo deserves it, after all.

It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday night, and Nolan feels a little like a loser for being home alone. Jonah has gone out with some of his old friends from high school and even his parents are out. On a date, his mother said, which made Nolan smile.

Even if he’s the only homebody on this Saturday evening, Nolan doesn’t mind. He’s pretty okay with his own company, and it’s nice to have a quiet night before the season starts.

However. Now that he’s started thinking about Cargo he can’t get him out of his head. It’s been a long time since they’ve spoken – he’s not even sure where Cargo is right now. He doesn’t know if he’s in Florida, or Arizona, or if he’s even in the country.

Hell with it. His parents and brother won’t be home for quite awhile yet, and there’s nothing on TV. He grabs his cell phone, throws himself onto his parents’ living room couch, which is huge and comfortable, and scrolls through his contacts until he finds Carlos Gonzalez.

The phone rings three times before Cargo picks up. “Hello?” he says, sounding a little pleasantly surprised.

“Hey!” Nolan says. “How’s it going?”

Cargo laughs. “It’s midnight.”

“Shit, Cargo.” Nolan glances at the clock. “You’re in Florida? Shit, sorry, I forgot about time zones, I can let you go – “

“No, no,” Cargo says. “I’m awake. You in California?”

“Not for much longer,” Nolan says cheerfully. “Arizona soon. You ready?”

“Hell yeah,” Cargo says. “World Baseball Classic coming up. Gotta kick your ass, baby.”

Nolan laughs, ignoring the backflip his stomach does whenever Cargo casually uses a pet name for him. He doesn’t think Cargo really means anything by it, but Nolan has vivid memories of Cargo shoving him against the lockers with his teeth on his neck and his hand down his pants, whispering “ _Nolan, yeah, hell yeah, baby_ ” and sometimes it feels like those moments between them have been dreams.

They’re not dreams, though, because Nolan has awakened the morning after with hickeys he has to try to hide and then he walks into the clubhouse and Cargo smirks at him all happy and pleased with himself and nobody else really notices anything, but yeah, okay, that happened and it wasn’t a dream.

“Team Venezuela won’t know what hit ‘em,” he says to Cargo now, tucking an arm behind his head as he lies on the couch. He thinks about the names in Team USA’s lineup – Yelich. Hosmer. Posey. Stanton. Lucroy. Stroman. He’s never played on a team this stacked, and he can’t fucking wait.

“We’ll see about that,” Cargo says. “I’ll say hi to you when we play Team USA. Probably when I’m rounding third after I homer off one of your pitchers.”

Nolan laughs. Show-off. “How’s your offseason been, man?” he asks, switching topics.

“Can’t handle the trash talk?” Nolan can hear the smile in his voice. “My offseason has been great, thank you. Busy. Fun. Gerardo visited. You should’ve.”

Nolan scoffs. “With Gerardo there? You would’ve ganged up on me.” Gerardo Parra has been friends with Cargo for years, and they’ve become almost inseparable since Gerardo came to the Rockies. “Couple-a trouble-makers, you two.”

“We would never do that to you!” Cargo assures him, laughing. “What about you, what have you been up to during the offseason?”

“Ton of stuff with my family. We went to Cuba. That was cool.”

“Nolan, that’s awesome!” Cargo sounds genuinely happy for him. “I’m glad you got to do that. I hope you had a great time.”

“Yeah, it was really cool. Really fun.” He’d been offline the whole time they were in Cuba, which is part of why he hasn’t spoken to Cargo in months. Cuba was worth it, though.

“Your Spanish get any better?” Cargo asks, teasing.

“No.” Nolan snorts. “My Spanish is really bad, Cargo. It’s never going to get better.” He has, admittedly, improved over the years – marginally – as a result of playing with guys like Cargo, but it’s still not good. His accent is terrible, which makes Cargo and Gerardo howl with laughter every time he tries to speak Spanish. It’s all good-natured, but he’s learned not to bother.

Cargo hums deep in his throat. “I can’t believe you’ve never asked me to teach you.”

Nolan shrugs. “I can’t believe you’ve never offered.”

“I’m not that nice, Nolan.” Cargo’s voice is pleasant and warm, despite his words. “You’d owe me.”

He laughs. “Yeah. I’d buy you dinner.” He is certain that isn’t what Cargo means, but Cargo can take it there if he wants to.

“Yes,” Cargo says, and he sounds like he knows that Nolan knew exactly what he meant, but he chooses to backtrack into safer territory, for now. “You’d owe me dinner, of course. You can afford it. Heard you got a shiny new two-year contract.”

Nolan’s stomach does a flip again. “As opposed to your impending free agency?”

Cargo sighs. “Come on, Nolan, do you really want to talk about that?”

No, he doesn’t….but he does, because this matters to him. It matters to him to know whether this really will be Cargo’s last year in Denver. “Well, put my mind at ease, Cargo. If the Rockies offered you an extension would you even consider it?”

Cargo sighs again. “Of course I’d consider it, you’d be stupid not to. But there are a lot of other things to consider, too.”

“Like Gerardo? Are you gonna consider his feelings, if his best friend were to suddenly leave the team?” Nolan’s voice is light, but he’s a little bit serious. He’s known this year was coming, but he hates the idea of Cargo being somewhere else.

“You’ll find that Gerardo and I have a strong enough friendship that it can survive me playing on another team,” Cargo says, his voice as light as Nolan’s. He’s quiet for a minute, then: “Hey, Nolan?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t get hung up on it, okay?” he says gently. “I’m here _now_! I’m on your team for at least one more season, and we’re gonna have a good one.”

“Promise?”

“No,” Cargo says. “Don’t wanna make promises I don’t know I can keep. But I think we’ll have a good one.”

If Cargo thinks it’ll be good, that’s enough for Nolan. He shrugs. “Okay.”

“Okay? Good,” Cargo says. “You should be excited, not sitting around dwelling on me.”

“Ooh, you really think highly of yourself, don’t you?” Nolan teases. “Like I’m sitting around moping because it’s your last season as a Rockie. I’m not. It’s just, you know. I’m aware of it.” Okay, he has spent more time thinking about it than he’d like to admit, but he hasn’t been sitting around dwelling on Cargo.

“Well, Jesus, Nolan. As long as you’re aware of other things, too.”

“You know me. I’m very aware.”

Cargo laughs. “Anyone who watches you play knows that. Those Gold Gloves are proof enough.”

Nolan rubs a palm over his face. He never knows how to react when people praise his performance as a third baseman, because he knows he has so much to learn. Especially when it’s coming from Cargo, because, well, are you kidding? Carlos Gonzalez has the best left-handed swing in the league, he’s a Gold Glove caliber defender wherever they put him in the outfield. And he stands there on a regular basis and tells Nolan Arenado he’s amazing? “Thanks,” he says sheepishly. “You’ve got a few of those yourself.”

“Take the compliment,” Cargo says with a soft laugh. “It won’t kill you.”

Nolan feels hot all of a sudden. He’s wearing a baseball cap, had it on backwards before, but now he turns it around and tugs it down over his face, as if he has anyone to hide from. “I’m just happy to help the team out, you know.”

“That Nolan. He’s so humble.”

“You’re making me blush, Cargo,” Nolan says, still with his cap tugged down.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is that not why you called?” He sounds smug. There’s a bit of a purr in his voice now.

“Uh.” No, it isn’t. (Yes, it is.) “Called because I miss you.”

“That’s sweet of you. How come now, not earlier in the offseason?”

“Because I was in Cuba, Cargo!” Nolan groans. “You can’t get mad at me for not calling sooner. This is like the first night I’ve been home alone in months.”

“I’m not mad at you.” For the first time, Nolan can hear Cargo moving around – footsteps and then a click, like he’s shut or locked a door. “What are you doing home alone? Why aren’t you out having a good time? I’m sure there are plenty of lovely ladies there in Southern California.”

“Why aren’t you out having a good time?” Nolan shoots back.

“You don’t know I haven’t been.” Nolan can practically see his smirk. “But you? The night is young out there.”

Nolan picks at the brown upholstery of his parents’ overstuffed couch, reflecting on his last few months. He hasn’t been all that interested lately in going out and having casual sex with people he doesn’t know. Maybe he’s been thinking about Cargo more than he’s realized. “Nah. Maybe I’m growing up.”

Nolan can hear him moving again, though now it sounds like he’s sitting down somewhere, making himself comfortable. Cargo sighs. “God, I wish I was there.”

“What? Why?” Nolan asks, furrowing his brow.

“Miss you. Didn’t realize how bad until you called.”

Nolan wants to sink into the couch, disappear into these soft cushions and then maybe his face will stop burning and his stomach will stop doing flips. It’s amazing how Cargo can say everything while barely saying anything. “Miss you too,” he manages to say.

Cargo laughs softly. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing,” Nolan says. “Why, you coming to visit?”

“No.” Cargo pauses. “Would you want me to?”

Nolan feels a little put on-the-spot. “I – I mean - yeah, totally – are you really gonna – “

“No,” Cargo says. “I’m sorry, I wish I could, you’re making me I really wish I could. I wanna see you.”

Nolan stands up. He feels antsy all of a sudden. He paces around the living room, rubbing the back of his neck and biting his lower lip. His heart is thudding against his ribcage and he wants to know why Cargo makes him feel like this. “You enjoying yourself?” he blurts out, because if Cargo was here he’d be smirking at him. Fondly smirking, yes, but smirking all the same.

Cargo laughs again, heartier, and his smile is probably lighting up his whole face as he throws his head back. Nolan knows his laugh like the back of his hand. “Yes! I am! Are you?”

“Yeah, I love being laughed at,” Nolan grumbles. “Maybe it’s better you stay in Florida if this is all you’re gonna do.”

Cargo lowers his voice. “No,” he says, again with that soft purr. “I think I’d find other things to do with you if I were there. Lot more fun than laughing at you.”

Nolan’s feet carry him out of the living room, and he’s heading for his bedroom upstairs without really thinking about it. “Yeah? Like what?”

“I think you know.”

Nolan’s heart is still pounding when he steps into his bedroom and locks his door behind him. It’s the room he’s had since he was a teenager, he still sleeps here during the offseason and sometimes when the team comes to L.A., but not much has changed since then.

It sort of feels weird to be talking to Cargo like this, in this room in his parents’ house, where, yeah, he’s home alone now but his parents could be home at any time, and his brother’s room is just down the hall. He feels like a kid again, trying to sneakily get away with something he knows he shouldn’t be doing. “Maybe you should tell me anyway.”

“You want me to? I have a lot of ideas. Four months is a long time to be without you, Nolan.”

Nolan’s brain is going to short circuit. He doesn’t know how Cargo can just say those words and tack his name on the end of his sentence like that. How can anyone be that honest? But Cargo is nothing but honest and Nolan has no choice but to believe him.

Then again, Cargo could tell him the world was flat and the moon was cheese, and Nolan still might be inclined to believe him.

Nolan takes a deep breath. He means to say yes but for some reason he says “ _please_ ” and is kind of shocked at himself, because he has no idea where that word came from but he’ll go with it, and he’s sure Cargo will have no complaints.

“All right,” Cargo says softly. He’s quiet for a moment, then he says, “Tell me what you’re wearing. I wanna picture you.”

Nolan collapses backward onto his bed with a groan. “Nothing interesting.” He shifts, making himself more comfortable. “T-shirt and shorts, what do you think?”

“Pretty much that,” Cargo says dryly.

Nolan takes off his cap and tosses it across the room. “What are _you_ wearing?” he asks petulantly.

Again, Cargo pauses, then says, “I was gonna go to bed when you called, so I already have my shirt off.”

“What?” Nolan yelps, then glances around self-consciously, as if anyone is here to hear him. He lowers his voice. “You’ve been talking to me half-naked the whole time and you didn’t tell me?”

“You didn’t ask,” Cargo says, laughing. “It wasn’t relevant before!”

“Lying by omission’s still a fucking lie, Cargo.”

“Take your shirt off, then. So we’re even.”

Nolan sits up to tug his shirt off and drop it to the floor without complaint. His bedroom window is open and a cool night breeze makes him shiver. “Okay,” he says to Cargo, settling back on his mattress.

“Relax, Nolan,” Cargo says gently. “You sound nervous. It’s just me.” He heaves a long, contended sigh. “I wish I could kiss you right now. You’re so fun to kiss. Bite your lips until they’re all swollen. You like that, right?”

“Yeah,” Nolan mumbles. He closes his eyes and skates a hand down his bare chest. His skin is hot.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Cargo murmurs back. His voice is soft but right in Nolan’s ear, sending shivers down his spine and making warmth coil in his stomach. “Wanna put my hands on you. Stroke your face and your chest. Then maybe I’ll get you on your knees between my legs, play with your hair while you get your pretty mouth on me.”

“Shit, Cargo,” Nolan hisses, pressing a hand to the front of his shorts.

“You want that, baby?”

“Yeah.” Nolan wraps a hand around his stiffening cock through his shorts. He wants to taste Cargo, feel the comfortable weight of his hand on the back of his head, let him jerk his hips forward until tears spring to Nolan’s eyes and it’s _just_ on the edge of too much – but Cargo always knows when it’s enough, like he can read Nolan’s mind. Or at least his body.

“Yeah, you’re so good at that. You’re so good with your mouth, almost as good as you are with your hands.”

Nolan gives a little “humph” in spite of himself. “Almost?” He pushes his shorts down his thighs so he can get his hand on his skin.

Cargo laughs. “I’m just saying, never seen anybody make a double play look as sexy as you. Incomparable.”

If Cargo could see Nolan, Nolan would probably say “double play _this_ ” and flip him the bird with both hands. Then he’d probably give him the best blow job he’s ever had, just to prove there’s no almost about it. “I’ll show you _almost_ ,” he grumbles.

“I’d love to see that,” Cargo says, and Nolan has a feeling this might’ve been his plan in the first place.

“You’re evil,” Nolan grunts, twisting his hand around his cock. He doesn’t want to come too quick. He’s pretty sure Cargo has other ideas to talk him through. “Cunning son of a bitch.”

“You can’t blame me for taking advantage of that competitive streak of yours.” Cargo’s voice is still warm and steady, if a little more breathless now. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Yeah,” Nolan says. He’s jerking his cock as slow and gentle as he can. He wants to make it last. “You?”

“Yes. Still thinking about your mouth….fuck, Nolan, you’d feel so good.” He heaves a gusty sigh again. “Babe, I’m gonna put you on speaker, okay? Promise I’m not going anywhere or doing anything else, and it’s just me here – I just – I want both my hands free, is that all right?”

Nolan grunts an affirmative, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He imagines Cargo kissing his exposed throat. If he closes his eyes, he can practically picture Cargo lifting his head, looking at him with his warm dark eyes.

Cargo sounds a little farther away when he speaks again. “Can you hear me?”

Farther away but still close enough. “Yeah,” Nolan says, pressing his phone to his ear and wiggling into a more comfortable position on his mattress.

“Good.” He chokes off the end of the word, like he’s stifling a moan. “Fuck, just thinking about you blowing me got me so hard.” His breath comes in short bursts, his words staccato.

Nolan’s hand speeds up on his cock, almost without thinking about it. “I wanna taste you – want you to come in my mouth – “

“God, I want to, Nolan,” Cargo says, his voice tight, “but maybe I wanna fuck you, though. You want that? I’d make it so good for you.”

Nolan presses his lips together, wishing he could guarantee his parents and brother aren’t about to come home. Wishing Cargo was actually here to silence his moans with his palm or mouth. “Yeah,” he finally says, unable to come up with anything more creative.

“Yeah, you do, knew you would.”

Nolan likes his voice so much.

Cargo keeps going. “Gonna have you on your back so I can see your face – fuck, bet you look good right now, Nolan. Still touching yourself, right?”

Nolan fights back a laugh. “Yeah, I’m not stopping.” He thinks about making a joke but doesn’t. He doesn’t want to take Cargo out of his zone.

“Good boy, you’re so good, Nolan, tell me when you’re gonna come, okay?” His breathing is heavy, labored. “I can’t believe you went the entire offseason and didn’t call me. Thought about you so much.”

Nolan’s hips jerk up, thrusting into his fist. He’s getting so close, and Cargo’s not even _here_. “Yeah, like what were you thinking about?” he manages to say.

“This. But not over the phone. Wanna take my time with you, suck your cock, work you with my fingers til you’re moaning my name – “

“Carlos – “ Nolan chokes out.

“Yeah, like that, baby, just wanna make you feel good. I’m gonna fuck you exactly how you want me to.”

Nolan is imagining it now, Cargo on top of him, fucking him deep and slow, making him want more. Nolan’s legs hooked around Cargo’s hips, Cargo’s nails digging into his thighs enough to leave half-moon indentations - “Shit. Shit, Carlos, fuck me – “

Cargo sounds as short of breath as Nolan is. “I will, I’m gonna, that’s a promise, wanna see your gorgeous face when you come, hear you begging me to give it to you – I will. Nice and slow, then harder. Make it last. Make you – “

“Carlos, I’m gonna come – “

“Yeah, fuck, come for me, I wanna hear you – “

It takes everything in him to keep the phone on his ear when he comes, his whole body shaking and arching off the bed as he spills over his fingers, and he’s not sure what he says, or if he says anything at all, just knows he’s louder than he probably should be and Cargo is on the other end of the line saying his name and a lot of words in Spanish that Nolan doesn’t understand.

Whatever it is, it sounds good.

Nolan wipes his hand on his shorts, trying to catch his breath, as he hears Cargo panting over the phone too.

“That was fun,” Cargo says, still breathless.

“Yeah. Jeez, Cargo, that’s not what I expected when I called.”

“But you had a good time,” Cargo says with a pleasant laugh.

“Uh, yeah. Did I sound like I did?” Nolan says incredulously.

“Yes,” Cargo says, and Nolan can picture his indulgent smile. “You’re a good kid, Nolan.”

If Cargo was here, he’d mess up Nolan’s hair as he said that, and Nolan would have to shove his hand away. Which would make Cargo laugh and look at him with even more fondness. “Kid,” Nolan says. “What’s that make you, old man?”

“Exactly.” Cargo laughs again, then says, “I can’t wait to see you.”

Nolan loves his voice, actually. Southern California is home, sure, but Denver is home too. The Rockies are home, and Cargo is the Rockies. Cargo’s voice sounds like home.

Nolan takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He feels so warm and content and – adored. “I really can’t wait either.”

“Well, don’t be a stranger, then. Don’t wait months before next time you call me.”

“I won’t,” Nolan assures him, already wondering how soon is too soon to call Cargo again.

“I’m glad you called tonight. I can’t think of a better way to have ended my night.” His voice is light again, teasing, flirty. Nolan loves it. “Gonna go to sleep with you on my mind.”

Nolan stretches out and tucks his arm behind his head. “That was my plan, actually.”

Cargo laughs. “I thought it might be. I’ll see you soon, Nolan. Have a good night.”

“Night, Cargo.” He catches himself just short of saying _love you_ , which feels like the right thing to say but like this is a weird time to say it.

“Good night,” Cargo says again, as if he too is saying that in lieu of anything else.

They hang up and Nolan lies on his bed for a few more minutes before getting up to clean up and put his clothes away. His heart feels light.

He thinks it’s going to be a good season.


End file.
